


mirror mirror unleash your tongue

by PoemIsDead



Series: Glitchy Narratives [1]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Belts, Bottoming from the Top, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Blood, Pain Kink, Power Bottom, Rough Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: "What was that?" the Irish demon asked in a lilting voice, popping his head to the side as he smoothed the last piece of duct tape across the man's stubbled cheek. "Were yeh tryin' teh say something, Hosty? Tryin' teh give us a littlenarration, hmm?"-----Anti decides he wants to have a little fun with a certain blind ego.





	mirror mirror unleash your tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mad_Madame_Mim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Madame_Mim/gifts).



> Wrote this for a friend of mine a while back, and figured I'd post it here. (Love you Mim!)
> 
> I have wayyy too much fun writing giddy Anti.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: dubcon bordering on noncon (there's explicit consent, but still) and mild blood

The Host's skin felt like the finest leather beneath Anti's fingers as he pressed against the gauze, holding it firmly in place even as his victim tried to rip free of his harsh grip. He could feel the bone of his strong jaw, muscles tensing beneath his fingers as he held fast, and a cruel smirk twisted up his face at how _easy_ it was to hold him just then. Not like trying to hold Dark, all volatile energy, angry auras flickering across his skin in raw power. No, while The Host might be a powerful creature, it was all of it contained in his wicked tongue, and Anti had taken that from him.

He'd been nice about it, at least. The duct tape was strong, industrial, a special order on Anti's part, and it would have wrecked his lips and the skin of his cheeks, not to mention what it would do to his hair. And Anti did like his pain, but he'd rather be the one tugging hair rather than letting some stupid adhesive do his work for him.

"Shhhhh, Hosty, stop yer strugglin'," Anti purred, digging his fingers in deep enough to drive red marks into his jaw from his blunt nails, holding his face just so as he yanked the duct tape across the gauze. He'd wrapped it all around his head, a protective barrier from the adhesive, but not softening the sheer pressure from how tight he was wrapping it. "Yeh don't want this in yer hair, do yeh?"

There was a muffled noise behind the bindings, a familiar angry growl, but Anti drowned it out easily with the stuttering sound of ripping duct tape.

"What was that?" the Irish demon asked in a lilting voice, popping his head to the side as he smoothed the last piece of shining silver across the pristine white fabric. "Were yeh tryin' teh say something, Hosty? Tryin' teh give us a little _narration_ , hmm?"

Anti stepped back away from the man with a satisfied smirk, looking over his handiwork with a sharp gleam in his eye. And what a pretty picture it was. The blind ego was pressed into a wooden chair, legs spread for balance, arms bound to his sides by his own belt, and Anti knew his slacks we loose under that long coat because of it. That filthy bandage was still wrapped around his eyes, stained with old and new blood alike, and the duct tape looked too pristine, the angelic white of the gauze hinting out around the edge and reminding the virus that he'd hardly begun his ruination of the man before him.

Anti brought one hand back out to catch The Host's chin again, black fingernails pressing into his skin as he grinned at him, knowing he knew, despite his lack of sight. That grin only grew wider as he watched the man work his jaw, as if trying to finding some escape from his pretty work.

"None of that now," the demon trilled, the words catching and repeating subtly as his excitement teased around the edges of his voice. He was stepping closer again, his other hand coming up to run roughly through those slick black locks, mussing the messy order the man seemed to keep about him. "Don't worry, Hosty. No need for yeh to be spinning any stories tonight. You just sit back 'n _relax_."

The Host jerked in his grip, a low sound coming from deep in his throat, threatening and raw, but Anti only giggled and let his hand trail down to wrap long fingers around his throat. The hand in his hair fell to his chest, broad and firm under Anti's wicked hands, and he walked his fingers up the pristine white cotton under his jacket until he found the top button, hooking his forefinger over the split in the shirt there and giving it a tug as he leaned in closer.

"I'll be makin' the stories tonight," Anti purred in the man's ear, his dark, messy hair tickling the Irish demon's cheek as he leaned forward to give him a light kiss on the back of his jaw.

The Host's jaw moved under the tape and gauze, and Anti could hear the muffled sound of his voice, could feel feather-light waves of that suffocating aura licking at his skin. In a flash, the hand at his throat was gone, replaced with the cold kiss of his blade against the the rough stubble under his jaw, and he was pressing hard against him, the gentle teasing giving way to a true warning of his strength.

" _None of that_ , I said," Anti hissed as he tugged harder at the button, the cotton straining under his touch. The Host froze beneath him, the sound of his rumbled Narrative cut off in mid-recital, and Anti's lips curled up into a satisfied smirk as he saw the way his hands were clenching in anger beside him.

"Awww, frustrated Hosty?" Anti asked in a sweet voice as he moved to straddle the male, not sitting down but standing over him as he pulled at his shirt. He licked his lips, looking down at that messy face, the tan skin winking at him from under that pristine shirt, and smirked a little wider. "I could help with that."

The glitch pulled sharply on the shirt, and the binding snapped, the button popping off to bounce quietly across the floor as the cotton fluttered open to reveal more of that pretty skin. The Hosts hands gripped angrily at empty air, and his head tilted back a little further, almost like he was trying to glare up at the demon.

"I know yeh need it, Hosty. A way to unwind. From all that stress. All that bitterness." He leaned forward, bringing his lips up to brush against his jaw just inches from where the knife still pressed harshly into his throat. "Don't worry. Yer friend Anti'll take good care of yeh."

Anti didn't bother lowering himself carefully into his captive's lap, instead opting to simply drop his weight there, bouncing a little with a shrill giggle as the knife shifted in his grasp, scraping a little nick into the man's stubble. The Host's hands whipped out, snapping to the extent of their reach to dig harsh fingers into the meat of Anti's thighs, but Anti only laughed and leaned forward to lick at the tiny line of blood.

"Come now, baby," he purred as he nuzzled in next to his sweet blade, the metal cool against his nose as he took in that musky scent of ink and paper The Host still seemed to carry, despite the fact he didn't think he'd ever seen him touch a pen. He let his free hand trail down to slip into his shirt, palm sliding roughly against skin before he pulled back to pull at the remaining buttons. "Let's take care of some of that anger, hmm?"

The rest of the buttons followed the first, Anti making a steady journey from the top of the shirt and popping each one in turn, ruining it in the most deliberate way. And even once every button was removed from its surface, the glitch couldn't help but yank it harshly open, letting his strength out to rip the fabric sharply around the seams, drawing an angry noise from the man beneath him.

"Hush, hush," Anti purred as he pulled the knife away and slid his hands down The Host's chest, relishing the feel of lean muscle beneath his hands. "Yeh won't be needin' that."

He was always covered up in that stupid jacket - and ooh, was the urge to destroy that brown leather hanging off his shoulders strong - but he was surprisingly attractive under all these covers. Maybe not quite so intimidating as Dark. But Anti might think twice about facing him if he had that metal bat in his hands.

His hands fell lower, and he let his fingers slip under the band of his slacks, pulling at them teasingly with a wicked grin.

"Yeh won't be needin' these neither," he said, his voice twisting up and skipping as the excitement fed the glitching, his own arms jumping and pixelating as he slid the knife down lower. He shimmied back to sit on his knees instead, giving him all the access he could want as he let his pretty toy trail across his captive's hip.

The Host twisted in his seat, hands reaching in vain to catch Anti's, and the virus made a high noise, part annoyance, part amusement, as his free hand whipped out to catch him by his throat, fingers elongating into blackened claws that dug harshly at the delicate skin of his neck.

"Yeh might as well stop yer fightin'," Anti hummed as he flicked the knife down under the waistband and sliced the bindings open like butter before his blade. "Yer gonna like it, I promise. I'm'a take good care o' yeh."

Of course, just popping open his fly like that didn't really give him the access he needed. And his captive didn't seem the most cooperative of people just yet, so he probably wouldn't lift up so he could shimmy them off. Which was fine, it just meant some sloppy, one-handed work with his knife.

Anti hummed a little tune as he worked, cutting jagged lines in The Host's pristine slacks, his other hand still wrapped firmly around his throat, narrowing his airway down to the tiniest of passages. He could hear each labored breath wheezed into his duct tape gag, could feel the muscles in his neck fighting against his hand, could see his hands balled in rage beside him. And it was like a beautiful symphony around him as he worked to get him free of these stupid pants.

The moment he had enough room, he released his grip on The Host's throat, the sound of his choking gasps behind the gag filling the room as Anti sank down to his knees between his legs. And then, without preamble, Anti leaned forward, hand gripping the base as he ran a messy line up his cock.

The Host jerked in his grip, letting out a broken noise in between his wheezing breaths, and Anti smirked, running his lips across his length before pulling back to bury him in his throat.

He wasn't quite fully hard yet, but Anti had him there in no time, using every trick he knew as he sucked and licked and choked his way over The Host's cock, his eyes watering as he watched what little of his face he could see. The American had tilted his head back, exposing the little cuts from the knife and Anti's claws alike, and there were already light bruises ghosting across his flesh from where he'd dug his fingers in. He could actually _see_ the strain in his neck as Anti swirled his tongue around the head before sucking with all his might.

By the time he was done, Anti had The Host panting beneath him, his hands pulled forward as long as his bindings would allow to bury his fingers in Anti's messy green locks, pulling hard enough to shoot shots of pain that did nothing but go straight to the demon's already leaking dick. And when The Host started groaning, low in his chest, Anti was almost sorry to pull off.

"See," he crooned in a rough voice, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he reached down to shed his own pants. "Isn't that nice, Hosty? Hmm? Isn't it nice teh submit teh me? Don't I take such good care o' yeh?"

The Host groaned again, a low sound of frustration, and Anti laughed as he climbed back up into his lap, knife in his hand again as he sank down to trap the man's leaking shaft between their bodies and grinding for the delicious feel of that friction. The knife came back up to press against his throat, lighter this time, more trailing delicate patterns into his skin than truly threatening him.

"How long's it been, Hosty?" he asked in a seductive purr, leaning in close to speak the words almost against the tape across his mouth as he ground down against him. "How long since yeh got teh split someone open with this beauty? Hmm? 'cause I'm bettin' it's been too long, ain't it?"

The Host didn't answer, of course, and Anti grinned as he leaned forward, lifting up so he could reach behind him and grasp the man's cock, lifting it to line up with Anti's already slick hole. He'd been planning this for a while, and hadn't wanted to waste time with silly things like _prep_.

"Now tell me yeh want it, Hosty," Anti commanded with a twisted grin, his hand tightening around his shaft as he rocked back slowly against him, just enough to tease him open, give him a taste of that wet heat. "Tell me yeh want teh fill me up. Tell me yeh want teh split me open with yer pretty cock and let me ride you like a whore."

He pressed a little farther, enough that he was pressed almost inside, his length pinned there so Anti could have his hand again. He wrapped his newly freed fingers around the back of The Host's neck, trailing up to tangle in hair and feeling the cool duct tape hidden there. He could see his nose flair with each breath, could feel his pulse in his fingers, see it jump under his knife as he slid it across his stubbled skin. And he could practically _feel_ the tension bubbling under him, that desire, that _need_ to give in, just thrust up and chase the pleasure Anti was offering him. But oh, his pride was a wicked thing, wasn't it?

"Tell me yeh want teh be inside me, Hosty. Tell me yeh want me to sink down, nice and slow, and let you fuck me till we're both screamin'." He leaned forward, careful not to shift his lower half as he felt his rigid length just barely breaching his entrance, and put his lips to his ear to purr his words directly to him. "Tell me yeh want teh fill me teh the brim with yer cum."

The Host made a primal noise deep in his chest that sent shivers through the Irish demon, bringing to mind metal bats and vicious smiles, and he clenched in delight as he pictured the man covered in blood and sweat and panting as he took him in the dirt.

And then The Host was nodding, and Anti groaned in satisfaction before dropping his weight into his lap and letting his cock spear him through.

A delicious pain ripped through him as he split him open. Fuck, he was bigger than that stupid toy, and he'd spent too much time on foreplay, but god, the pain had his toes curling in delight as he threw his head back and moaned.

"Oh, fuck, tha's thick," he slurred thickly, the hand in his hair twisting sharply as he clamped down around his length. " _Fuck_ , what a, ah- . . . what a good boy."

The Host growled beneath him, the sound broken as he thrust his hips up, dragging a gasp from the Irish demon. Anti didn't need any more encouragement than that as he raised up, dragging him almost all the way out before slamming down again and crying out as the pain and pleasure ripped through him.

He set a brutal pace - Anti hadn't gone through all this work for some sweet, gentle fuck - and he had them both gasping and groaning as he bounced in The Host's lap. The hand holding the knife twisted it away from his throat as he moved to rest his forearms on the man's shoulders, needing the leverage as he moved and moaned into his ear, losing himself in the feeling.

Anti could hear The Host's noises, groans and gasps and choked moans, but they were muffled by the tape, dull and faded as he worked to pull more from him. What was the point of doing all this work to wreck the man if he didn't even get to hear the arousing evidence of his skill?

He had the knife pressed against the American's face before he'd even thought it out, pulling back to glare down at the man with bared teeth as he slipped the blade beneath the gag and shredded it with a single twist of his wrist.

The Host took a deep, shuddering breath, mouth opening wide in surprise and pleasure, and he managed a shattered moan before Anti was pressing his blade against his lips, sliding it down to press against his tongue as his hand rested against his mouth.

"Start narrating, and I'll cut that pretty tongue right outta yer skull," he told him in a low growl, his voice only breaking and glitching near the end as he rocked down onto him again. He was pressed closer now, elbow resting on The Host's shoulder, arm pressed across his face and hand balanced on his lips as he held the knife to his tongue, and he could feel his toned stomach pressing against his leaking cock with every thrust. And god, was he starting to hit him just right.

What a wonderful idea this had been.

"Mmmm, Hosty, don't yeh feel good in me," Anti purred, his voice starting to hitch up higher as he rocked harder. "You do split me open just right, don't yeh, pet? And teh think- ah! Teh think you were just keepin' this nice cock, mm, just keepin' it all tucked away in yer pants when you coulda been fuckin' us teh heaven and back. _Fuck_ , what a good toy yeh are."

The Host made a choked noise, his hands reaching out to dig into Anti's thighs, using them as leverage as he bucked up viciously, the chair creaking beneath him. He was panting again, and Anti was right along with him, his breaths coming in harsh bursts and broken moans as he fucked him with everything he had.

Anti's eyes fell back to watch The Host's jaw clench, the shift causing the knife to slip and cut a line across his tongue, blood running swiftly down the moist muscle, and Anti was seconds away from burying his tongue in his mouth to taste that red honey, but they were both also seconds away from cumming, and Anti had better priorities.

In a flash, he ripped the knife away from his mouth, making another shallow cut in his bottom lip as he got sloppy with the action, and threw the knife away with a clatter, newly clawed hands reaching out to tear into his leather jacket as he gripped at his shoulders.

"Go ahead, Hosty. Go ahead. Say it. Tell me what's gonna happen with that filthy tongue a'yers." 

"Anti cums," The Host gasped desperately, his fingers digging into the demon's thighs as he ground his hips up in messy, dirty thrusts. "Anti cums on The Host's dick, drowning in pleasure. Anti cums, and The Host follows." 

Anti's eyes rolled back in his head and he smiled around a broken moan as he felt that suffocating aura catch him, running through his veins, hot and heavy and demanding, and he didn't bother to fight it as it took his control from him and washed his body in electric pleasure.

His body was no longer his own as he threw back his head and screamed in ecstasy, hips rocking frantically as he chased that pleasure into a black hole of mindless blissful oblivion, arms shaking as they clung desperately to that ruined jacket around broad shoulders.

"Oh, _Hosty_ ," Anti moaned as he made a few last shaky thrusts, milking it for all its worth. He could feel how messy he was, how sloppy The Host's thrusts had become, the wetness across their stomachs and sliding down his own thighs that said they'd both enjoyed that to the fullest.

Anti leaned forward, catching The Host's stubbled jaw in a firm grip once more and turning him up to catch his lips in a messy kiss, dipping his tongue in to chase that coppery taste of blood. The man beneath him hardly managed to reciprocate, lips moving weakly as Anti took the last of his satisfaction before finally sliding off of his lap and releasing his softening dick from it's warm home.

"Good boy, Hosty," Anti purred, giving the man two quick pats to his cheek before letting his own aura rise up, washing the last of The Host's influence from his blood before he was glitching away, hopping through the house and up walls and back to the dark attic with a satisfied smirk etched into his pale features.

Well that had gone better than expected.

Now if only he could get Dark to submit so beautifully, he might actually have use for the smug prick.


End file.
